


Making Other Motherfuckers

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex, This is a weird one, oviposition hinted at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2139849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew that your nook was one of the few that can make eggs? You and Gamzee are dealing with the news as well as you can, with him flipping out and you being tired as all get-out. You wish he'd just relax and sit with you, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Other Motherfuckers

**Author's Note:**

> I should mention that I have never been pregnant with alien eggs, so this might not be exactly true to source.

He’s been running here, there, to one store or another, in and out of the living block, for nearly a perigee. It’s exhausting to even watch him.

Since you discovered—accidentally—that you can carry eggs, Gamzee has been freaking the fuck out. Like, non-stop. He’s actually a little scary, because you want him to not be freaking out and just sit with you, but he’s worried.

And, well, you can understand that. You went from having pants hanging loosely off your hips to having a ballooned abdomen that made you feel like you were going to fall over (you mean, you can’t really stand so much as support yourself against a chair or counter, but the feeling remains.) You sleep so much, it’s unhealthy maybe. You’re not too sure about it.

You only know that Gamzee is freaking out, you’re tired, and you want your matesprit to let you hold him a little.

The next time he passes you, you grab his wrist. He turns, smiles weakly, and goes to pull away, but you tug him closer, until he has to arrange the tangles of his arms and legs around you and your too-large abdomen.

"You okay, Tavbro?" He murmurs, his hands alternating between tracing around the bases of your horns and stroking his thumbs over your throat. "Nearly got that room done, wanna see?"

Humming in what you hope is a soothing way, you kiss him. His paint is smeared, your poor boy. “Just sit with me, and let me know, if you’re not happy.”

He opens his mouth, probably to assure you that he’s happy wherever he is with you, and you just kiss him again, slower, until he returns it, his body going from straight and stiff to the relaxed way you know him. It’s great kissing him, he cups your cheeks in his hands and nibbles at your tongue and lips perfectly, and even if your nook wasn’t sort-of damp from the solid weight in your abdomen, you’d be wet just from him kissing you.

The only issue is that, from what you’ve tried, you can’t really have anything in your nook without it hurting. Which sucks. But you guess that’s what got you into this mess in the first place.

Gamzee doesn’t notice when you pause, just moves his mouth to your neck, pulling up bronze marks and making you squeak. Your hips jolt up into his (as much as they do, anyway) and he groans, rolls his hips into yours.

"Fuck, Tav.." He whimpers—actually whimpers, like he’s hurting—and licks his lips. "Been needin you like this, didn’t wanna hurt ya."

The edges of his face, where the paint has smeared off, and his ears are flushed indigo, and it takes you all of an instant to pull him in for another kiss, your hands moving from his chin to push his shirt up under his armpits, then skitter your claws over his skin.

Tongue flicking out to draw him in closer when you pull back, you coo his name. “Gamzee, you have a nook too. Let me help.”

He whines this needy noise and lifts himself to his knees to shove his pants down. “Please, yeah, make me yours.” Even just now, you can smell him, how worked up he is. He must need this.

Your bulge decides to push out, and you shuffle down to a slouch to accommodate your belly, and he all but yanks your bulge out to where he can get to it. His nook, from what you see of it as he shifts around to let you take him, is already wet, fluttering slightly, and when your bulge teases the slit of it he keens. He’s so needy, it makes you wish you could prowl over him and growl and really play up on it, you know he likes that, but he doesn’t seem disappointed when you just ease him onto your bulge.

As he rocks his hips, slow enough that you imagine he can feel each inch of your bulge in him, his hands come to rest very delicately on your belly.

As with any other time, he’s fine with carrying on a conversation while you have sex, and it takes almost no time for his sweetly breathy voice to reach your ears.

"You’re so amazing, Tavbro.. Making them, makin some—nnh, some other motherfuckers in that, that miraculous nook of yours." He pauses, kisses your lips when you open your mouth to speak. "Makes my fuckin head spin thinkin on it too long,enough to up’n make me wanna have you all the time."

Your face heats at that, and then he chirps, eyes widening as he hisses “right there”, and you just focus on pushing your bulge in him. He keeps babbling about how it feels, how hot you are next to him, inside him, and his nook flutters, tightens, twitches around your bulge deliciously.

When you come, it’s not earth-shattering so much as just, well, great, pulling from your feet, making you pull him against yourself, and he shakes as you fill him, his bulge writhing between you.

Kissing him, you take his bulge in your hand and start working to get him off, sucking on his tongue, grinding your deflating bulge into him. He coos, moves against your hand, his breath coming fast and hard as he gets close. He’s a sight, like always, when he comes.

His face is so pretty, flushed lavender and twisted in pleasure, you love him so much. His toes, near your knees, curl. You know this, not from feeling it, but because they always do, and you’ve gotten into a habit of watching him when he gets off. His abdomen clenches, and you gasp when his bulge tightens on your hand, and his nook clenches on you.

Indigo spills on your lap, and you’re glad that you can’t really wear your shirts, if only because they don’t have a chance of getting material on them. You push Gamzee through his orgasm, kissing all over his face and neck as he calms down, as his breathing gets deeper and less shaky.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but when you do wake up, Gamzee is carrying you to coon, this sleepy smile on his clean face. you kiss his chest, since you can reach it, and he noses into your hair.

You think this will work out.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention that I also never write mpreg or pregnancy at all? I feel I should have.  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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